Tumblr Prompts - Quinntana
by headcannon
Summary: These are works based on prompts I have received from Tumblr. I've gotten prompts for various fandoms; so, updates will really depend on how many Quinntana prompts I receive. Ratings may vary between posts. See headers for information about specific posts. If you have a prompt you'd like to see filled, send it my way and I'll see what I can do.
1. Prompt 1: I

Quinn couldn't remember the choir room ever feeling so cold. The hoots and applause that swelled up around her barely struck her consciousness. It was as though she was floating just under the water's surface and the sound was above her instead of how it usually was in this room - surrounding her and holding her in place.

Closing her arms over her chest to ward off a shiver, she forced herself to breathe.

"You okay?" Puck asked, curling his arm over Quinn's shoulder.

Had she been able to think more clearly, she would have thanked him for keeping his voice so low. It was, of course, unnecessary with everyone's attentions on the newly-engaged couple.

Quinn nodded dumbly and with an even tone, noted, "She's getting married."

Puck inhaled through his nose and pressed his lips together, his eyes focusing on the side of Quinn's face. He thought he'd seen the last of Quinn's "steely resolve" face when they last left McKinley together. He'd hoped, at least.

His arm tightened around her and he tried to ignore the muscle that jumped in her jaw as she clenched it closed, the squint in her eyes as she stared straight ahead and the way her lips pursed as if she was using all of her energy not to let any words slip out. It a mask he knew well. She wore it nearly every day in high school - it was the one she slipped on whenever feeling was too much for her.

"Stop staring at me, Puck" she said, her voice a mere hush against the din of the room. "I'm not going to have a breakdown, okay?"

"Then stop looking like you want to murder the brides," Puck challenged.

Quinn pulled her attention away from the crowd surrounding Santana and Brittany, her eyes searching Puck's for a moment. "Did you know she was going to do this?"

"I would have told you." He dipped his head to meet her gaze. "You know me, Quinn. I would have protected you."

"I know," Quinn answered, ignoring the quiver in her chin as she breathed out the two words. She wasn't going to cry - not here, at least.

Puck pulled her tightly to his chest and kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head when he felt her shoulders shake.

"Hey!" Santana shouted from across the room. "You better not be trying to steal our thunder, Puckerman!"

"Double wedding!"

Santana found herself being bounced along with her newly-upgraded girlfriend - now fiance - as Brittany hopped in place excitedly. She rolled her eyes and laughed under her breath. "Nuh uh," she said. "It's our day. I'm not sharing." She pointed to Quinn and Puck warning them, "So if you think you're gonna make some kind of announcement right now, think again."

The ridiculousness of the situation gave Quinn the little bit of support she needed to keep her tears in check. Leaning out of Puck's embrace, she looked at Brittany - careful not to make eye contact with her other friend - and calmly stated, "We're not getting married, Brittany."

"We could," Puck teased. He let his brow pop up as he smirked. It wasn't the time to comfort Quinn, not with everyone watching. Trying to navigate Quinn's emotions and pushing her from hurt to angry was something he was better at, anyway. "You'd make a pretty good first wife."

Quinn rolled her eyes and slapped her friend - hard - on the shoulder. She could tell from his mischievous smile that he'd achieved whatever it was he'd been trying to do. His proud grin didn't waver even as he tried to rub away the sting she'd left as a thank you for his efforts.


	2. Prompt 1: II

Prompt ( riversgron ) how's quinn going to feel about seeing santana and brittany back together, and the whole marriage thing! (and also see/read and hypothetical conversation between them)

Pairing: Quinntana (unrequited); Quick (sorta); Brittana

Mood: This is where the angsty angstness of angst is - in case you were looking.

Notes: I went a little vague in the discussion because, really, who wants a story where someone bares her soul just to be told "I didn't know you felt that way. Wow. Sorry - too late."? So. Hopefully this is okay …

Also, not super happy with it but - angst makes me nervous.

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><p>It was only fitting that the engagement party was held at Breadstix. Santana hadn't bothered to clue anyone into her plans, making the proposal as much a surprise to everyone else as it had been to Brittany. And that meant there wasn't much time to make arrangements for a more upscale celebration and, anyway, most other venues required reservations at least six weeks in advance.<p>

Plus, Santana had been complaining that they'd been in town for a week and hadn't yet visited their old favorite haunt.

For her part, Quinn spent much of the party touching up flower arrangements, making sure the next course was on its way and - generally - acting much too busy to join in the reveling. When she wasn't flitting around pretending to host the celebration, she stayed at Puck's side. His arm was heavy and solid around her shoulder - it anchored her every time she thought she might make a break for it.

A tinny ringing echoed across the small banquet room - really just the back section of the restaurant closed off from other guests by a long rope. When their friends didn't quiet down immediately, Rachel made a sharp shushing noise, which in turn cued Kurt to do the same and that caused a chain reaction that ended with the room sounding like a leaky steam valve.

"Quiet, quiet," Santana called out to her friends while Brittany clutched her arm and beamed beside her. "Thank you for this amazing night. We really didn't expect any of this - "

"I especially didn't because I didn't even know I was getting married until yesterday," Brittany interrupted.

"Now that we're on the same page," Santana said with a sweet smile, "we've starting talking about dates and venues and all of the other things that have yet to be planned. But there's one part that doesn't require an extended discussion and that's the one about who we want by our sides on our special day."

"Once we get confirmation from our Best Man - " Santana paused to look to Puck. "And our Maid of Honor - "

Santana's brows knitted slightly, making the faintest of creases above her nose when she made eye contact with her best friend and saw the other woman blinking owlishly back at her.

"Um," Santana cleared her throat and tried not to read into Quinn's apparent discomfort. "We'll have a couple of things crossed off our to do list."

Puck raised his champagne glass as a reply and hoped Quinn would simply mimic the motion - anything to keep her from actually having to speak. When she hesitantly lifted her glass and dipped her head, there were applause and someone, Puck wasn't sure who, shouted something about the traditional Best Man/Maid of Honor hook-up.

He kept his arm tightly around her until all eyes were off of them. "I didn't know what else to do," he confessed in a whisper. "Everyone was watching and I didn't want - "

"Excuse me," Quinn said quickly, shrugging out of his hold and making a beeline for the restrooms. She hadn't lifted her head long enough to catch Santana's curious stare.

The bathroom was quiet and gave Quinn space to gather the energy she'd need to get through the rest of the party. She tried to keep her focus on the present. Even thinking for a moment about throwing a bridal shower for her best friends or standing next to them at the wedding started a dull pounding behind her eyes. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So, what was that?" Santana asked, before the bathroom door had a chance to close all the way.

Quinn sighed but didn't allow herself to look up. "Too much champagne," she offered weakly.

"Maybe. Except you know what I just realized? You still haven't congratulated us." Santana pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at her best friend. "In fact, you haven't said anything to me and it's kind of my party out there."

"What do you want me to say, Santana?" Quinn asked tiredly.

Santana stepped back, as though she'd been slapped.

"I dunno, Q." She squared her shoulders and straightened her back. "How about saying you're happy for us - for me? You couldn't find a way to stand up and say that you support me and that you're happy that I'm happy? Or, I don't know, maybe acknowledge that you'd be honored to be at my side on the biggest day of my life? You couldn't actually say that you want to be the Maid of Honor? "

Shifting uncomfortably against the sink, Quinn chewed the corner of her lip nervously and blinked a few times, avoiding meeting her friend's eyes.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head as she studied her friend. After a beat, she inhaled sharply.

"You don't want to be the Maid of Honor."

When Quinn didn't reply, she repeated herself , her voice cracking when she asked, "You don't wanna be my Maid of Honor?"

"San-"

"What is it with you and weddings?" she asked, interrupting Quinn. "You were completely against Rachel's and Finn's and now you don't want to be part of mine? Next thing you know you're gonna tell me you're not even gonna be there!"

Quinn inhaled deeply, steeling herself, and said, "I'm not, Santana." She looked up with sad eyes. "I can't."

"Like hell you can't." Santana glared at the other woman. "You don't want to. And I wanna know why."

Quinn softly shook her head, blinking as she looked away. She'd already done enough damage. What good would an explanation do? The truth would simply take Santana's hurt and anger and add a new level of guilt.

Not that Santana had anything to feel guilty about. Quinn had gone out of her way to mask the way she felt for her best friend. At first it was simply because Quinn wasn't sure what she was feeling. Bu then, by the time she was ready to name her feelings - a huge task that required some coaching from a very unlikely source, Puck - Santana had reconciled with Brittany.

And even if Quinn thought she could compete with Brittany for Santana's affections, she never would have tried. She loved both of her friends too much for that.

"Aren't you happy for me, Q?" Santana's voice cracked again, allowing the hurt to seep out past her anger.

Quinn stared at the tiled floor. "I'm happy that you're happy," she answered after a long silence. Pushing herself off the sink and, with her hand on the door handle, she said, "Maybe someday I'll be able to make that enough."

"If you leave right now, Quinn," Santana warned, her voice dangerously low, "when you come back, you won't be able to fix this. It'll be too late."

Quinn opened the door and over her shoulder she sadly admitted, "I was already too late."


	3. Prompts 2 & 3: I

**Prompts (anon)**: can u write a quinntana fic with quinn as santana's maid of honor and quinn has to calm santana down when she gets nervous before the wedding with britt? thx  
><strong>Additional prompt will be posted with second part<strong>.  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Quinntana  
><strong>Mood<strong>: Romantical, I suppose.  
><strong>Notes<strong>: Wasn't sure where I was going to go with this. Some of you sent in some really great ideas and I really appreciate it. I'll be honest - it's kind of all over the place because I couldn't commit to any one thought for very long while writing. So, you get a little flirty, a little best-friendy and a little - something else?

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><p>Turning around and looking over her shoulder, Santana squinted at her reflection in the mirror. "Does this make my ass look big?"<p>

"Incredibly," Quinn replied dryly from behind the magazine she'd been paging through. "Youwere the one who told the sales lady that you'd set fire to any dresses that didn't make your ass look - I can't believe I'm repeating this - " She stopped and sighed. "- deliciously Kardashian."

"It does look pretty delish," her friend commented easily. "But does it take away from these?"

Santana rested her hands against the front stitching of the dress bodice and lifted her breasts. She tilted her head, an eyebrow twitching as, watching herself in the mirror, she repeated the action.

Quinn didn't bother to look up. "No."

"You didn't even look," Santana argued. "If you're not interested in looking at my boobs - which I paid really good money for, by the way - why are you even here?"

Rolling her eyes, Quinn dropped the magazine in her lap and said, "Because you said you'd never forgive me if I forced you to ask Rachel Berry to be your Maid of Honor."

"And I wouldn't," Santana re-affirmed. "She'd probably interrupt every two seconds with a ballad and justify it as 'apropo for the occasion'. Not to mention she'd act as though singing - unsolicited - at my wedding and/or reception would nullify her responsibility to purchase an actual wedding gift. This isn't gonna be one of those 'services in lieu of gift' kind of affair."

She made eye contact with Quinn and pointed at her through the mirror, "I want one of those Keurig things."

Rolling her eyes, Quinn said, "Please, Rachel's probably already bought something, had it engraved and paid extra for 'elegant' wrapping." After a beat, she offered somewhat timidly, "But, you could have, you know. Asked her? She's one of your best friends now. I'd have understood."

It wouldn't have been the first time Quinn considered Rachel's ability to replace her. Why not? She replaced her as Finn's girlfriend, she replaced her as prom queen (with a little help) - it wouldn't have surprised her if she replaced Quinn as Santana's best friend.

Truthfully, Quinn hadn't been a constant in Santana's life for a long time. Sure, she made a few short trips to the city, but dancing and shopping took precedence over other matters. It hadn't been Quinn who was there for the fall out with Dani after the band fiasco or for the whirlwind that came with Brittany's re-entrance on her best friend's romantic radar.

Santana hadn't looked to Quinn to support her - not like she had with Rachel who was consistent and ever-present. If there was one thing Quinn knew, it that "out of sight, out of mind" would be the epitaph on her headstone.

"You jealous, Q? Want her to be your bestie for life?" The other woman raised her brow and smirked.

Santana shimmied out of the white dress and held it at arm's length. With her other hand, she pointed to the last dress hanging on the rolling rack at the end of the dressing stage.

"Not that you get a say, anyway. In the end it comes down to this: we're the Unholy Trinity. Me, Britts. You. " She kept her eyes on Quinn and watched as her friend grabbed the discarded item, folded it over her arm and made quick work of freeing the final dress from its hanger.

Santana stepped into the newest offering and continued, "That counts for something. Blood in, blood out or something like that, right?"

Quinn simply shook her head, her lips pressed together as though she was trying not to smile, and she busied herself with righting the dresses where they hanged. It was a meaningless task. Quinn had been diligent in her care to replace each dress immediately after it had been rejected by her best friend.

Following a moment of awkward fussing, and no sign of an end to Quinn's fussing with hangers, Santana pointed to the back of the dress. "Zip."

Once the dress was firmly fastened - Quinn paid special care to the tiny hook above the zipper - Santana looked herself up and down. With a pout, she announced, "I need a different dress."

"What's wrong with this one?"

It's not like Quinn hadn't already heard a million excuses why each dress had been wrong. One was too tight. One was not tight enough. There was one that was tight but not in the right places. Quinn wasn't sure how many times Santana compared the dresses, many of them with lace and delicate sequins, to burlap sacks.

"I look like a hot Peggy Olson," the other woman complained. "Like, after the wedding, I'm going to join the typing pool then maybe stab someone."

There was nothing Madmen-era about the dress - nothing at all. It did just what Santana requested, displayed her assets. Tastefully so, even.

"You look amazing, Santana," Quinn said, her voice calm and even. "In fact, you looked amazing in each of the first ten dresses you tried on."

Dropping her chin onto her friend's shoulder, Quinn narrowed her eyes and crinkled her nose, curiously asking, "Why are we still here?"

Santana shrugged, her eyes glued to Quinn's as the other woman's head tilted to rest against her own. She opened her mouth, grimaced and closed it again. It took a few breaths' time before she asked, more timidly than Quinn thought Santana was capable of, "What if none of these are right?"

"They're just dresses, Santana. You'll look gorgeous in whatever you choose to wear," Quinn chided softly.

The other woman broke eye contact and let her eyes take in the dress she was wearing. It fit her form without pushing her out in all the wrong - or for some people, right - places. Even though she'd turned and upended its path, the train, a gentle lace pattern, ran down the small steps of the raised viewing stage like a little path. As her eyes followed it, she blinked as she caught herself gazing at the exit.

"What if this isn't right?" Santana wondered aloud, her voice just loud enough for her friend to hear.

"What this?" Quinn's brows pushed together and a frown pulled at her lips.

"Me." Santana righted herself but couldn't bring herself to meet her friend's eyes, even through the mirror, and trained her eyes on the place where the dress pooled at the floor. "And Britt."

Quinn chewed the edge of her lip. "You and Brittany - " she began. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was cut off.

"She's amazing, right? There's no way I could do better than Britt." Santana asked, though she didn't wait for an answer. Turning around to look at her friend without the mirror between them. "Right?" she asked meaningfully.

Quinn took a small step backward and, after a short moment's hesitation, said in a tremulous voice, "You love Brittany and she loves you."

The other woman didn't disagree. In fact, she didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded softly and looked away.

"S." Quinn paused and cleared her throat, hoping to rid her voice of its betraying waver. "The two of you have come a long way since the days of sneaking kisses in the locker room after practice. You went through a lot to get here, you know? And, I'm not insinuating that you're a princess - so please don't slap me - but you deserve a happily ever after. You've been in love with Brittany for almost as long as I've known you - she's always been the happy ending you wanted."

The other woman sighed at the reminder. Quinn was right. She had spent a great deal of her life - and all of her post-pubescent experience - pining after Brittany. Even when she was felt like a walking clichê for falling in love with her (sometimes unobtainable) best friend, Santana never tried not to be in love with Brittany.

With a gentle smile, Quinn added, "And speaking as your intended's other best friend - " She paused and offered a thin smile, the kind that only lifted her lips at the corners. Had Santana been looking at Quinn's eyes, she might have seen that they weren't as bright as when Quinn normally smiled at her. "Brittany is lucky to have you. There's no way she could do better than _you_."


End file.
